Fire emblem: The untold story
by Justadraft
Summary: This story spans FE 6,7, 9. It describes the untold adventures our favourite characters caused by or, will cause the events of all three games. Leans heavily on magic aspects of FE. Please! R&R Chapter 3 out!
1. Answers at Arcardia

This is a typical FE fanfic, with all the FE elements that you know and love. It is set in the period of time between Sealed Sword and Blazing Sword (Overused, yes), and ill be creating fiction using 'taken for granted elements' such as the creation of the continent, which was explained in FE Path of Radiance but not here. I'll also be hoping to exploit any gaps and between the two storylines, that is, if I can find any. Do comment if I wrote anything that would not tie in with the original storylines, I'll then be able to edit.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Answers at Arcadia**

The sun was blazing overhead, cooking the earth and all that thrived on it. The heat brought by this terrible weather had caused droughts all over the land, and it was best felt in the desert wastes of Nabata.

For miles and miles one could see nothing but giant mounds of golden sand, each grain baked by the sun. But somewhere in these plains, hidden, safe from the eyes of the layman soldier, was the great city of Arcadia.

An oasis.

Arcadia had been protected by this ruthless desert since the end of the Scouringand soon it was a myth to the rest of Elibe. Most agreed it was an impossible land conjured up by the old storytellers lying for some gold. Few said it was a possibility. Fewer still whispered tales of the sages thriving in the sacred land.

Which was why most of the Koeur villagers had thought that he was mad, trying to go where nothing but scorpions existed. He knew better, of course. He had already been there once already and had indeed been highly unsatisfied when his companions had to leave so early. He had kept this to himself all these weeks after the Great War, but he could wait no longer, Arcadia was, after all, his only hope of returning home.

"I know, but I really have to go Arcadia. It's the only effective way for me to get the answers that I need. Staying here long term is not what I plan to do."

"You really have had too much to drink. Must speak to Old Dave about allowing you into the tavern. What this crap about Aaa-"

"Arcadia." The young man supplied.

"Now don't you talk. I will get you a towel, look how hot you are," The other man, significantly older than the former, put his hand to the young man's forehead, then muttering something about _young people these days_.

"When I was your age I had to help out in the farming," The old man added, "how could I possibly have had time enough to think of going on these stupid journeys."

The young man, who had been deep in thought, suddenly turned. He had a determined look on his face, eyes shining bright, a set jaw reaffirming his decision.

"Gennou. I know you mean well. I cannot thank you enough for these days, taking such good care of me. I cannot thank you enough just for giving me shelter. But I have to go. Staying here in Caelin will be of no good to you or me. It is impractical for you to feed another mouth, I'll only add you your burden and you really can't afford it, can you?" he said, voice deep and clear, or even a little cold.

The old man looked sadly at him, his eyes positively misting up now.

"All right then… How can… can I stop you anyway."

"Thank you. And may the goddess bless you"

It had been 3 months now, since those words had been uttered. It was probably the first time he ever did truly thank someone. Remembering this brought sudden angst and pain to his chest.

He sat up, legs crossed beneath his lime green robes. He felt extremely tired and sleepy, despite his rest just a few hours before. His once long shadow had now been reduced, the sun at its hottest. He undid a belt buckle on his robe, allowing it and his orange cape to fall just to his hips. Instantly, he felt the hot sandy winds of Nabata on his skin, but hot or not; wind was indeed a respite to the stuffiness under his layers of garments.

Out in the desert for weeks now, his face was now a mess. A little stubble had grown from his pointed chin; and he now sported a very thin mustache. His face, once clean, pale and smooth, was now much tanner and all sorts of spots erupted from his face, a result of improper maintenance of facial hygiene. Forgivable, considering his present situation. His hair, which was originally long, now grew to ridiculous lengths, such that his hair band can no longer be seen, shielded from sight by the other strands that have grown since the start of his journey.

He missed his friends, the ones he had called family. It had already been a year since he set foot on this mysterious world of Elibe. He feared for his friends and wondered if they were alright, no, if they were even … alive.

He felt around his leather pouch and found, intact, the four tomes he had safely hidden. Looking deeply, he sought for, and found the one he treasured the most. Emitting from that particular tome was a darkness that loomed about the area. Though guarding a treasure worth countless times more than life itself, he carefully edged the tome back into its place. Slinging the pouch across himself, he stood up and trudged carefully, once again towards the path North.

- - - - - - - - - -

The room was pitch-black and nothing about it told of a living being currently inhabiting it. If walls had ears, the four completing this room couldn't have heard anything from within. But to the hundreds of thousands of mages and sages inhabiting the city, the magical power stemming from that room could not have been more prominent. Such was its power, that if all the mages gathered their magical energy and compared it to that of the room's, it would have been a single fly trying to compare to a ferocious canine.

And just then, two eyes flipped open from within the room, sending ripples across Arcadia. The sole man inhabiting the room stood up in complete darkness, and then walked steadily to the door, as though he could see, when no light reflected to his pupils. The large figure opened the bolted metal gate, into the face of a gigantic waterfall.

As he walked through the waterfall, it seemed that the stream of rushing water made way for him, spilling to the side from an invisible boundary that enveloped the man. And he walked, into a chamber that was adorned by sapphire tiles and streams, where more water flowed freely from ditches cut into the flooring.

"He is here," said Lord Archsage Athos.

**- - - - - - - - - - **

I tried to do a good cliffhanger ending, ya, but I don't know if it's good, so please comment to let me know. I have already got chapter 2, wrote them both, then separated into 2 chapters, but I want to know if anyone really is reading b4 releasing it, so please R&R.

Thanks for reading  



	2. Battle scenes

**Chapter 2: Battle scenes**

The Archsage seemingly glided down the flight of steps, into the main area of his abode. He had been recuperating from the battle with Nergal, sustained solely by his will and magic. After all, death does not come easily for those who have lived for thousands of years.

The Archsage was clothed in his usual purplish robes. They were faded to a gentler blue; and occasionally there were little burn marks, from his numerous battles in throughout his life.

In a distinct contrast to the robes, was his silvery white hair. It was so long, that if he had not combed it back, it would have definitely covered the whole of his face – which was actually very much hidden already, thanks to the bushy mustache and beard he grew.

"Lord Athos! Why, you look much better already. I'll go inform Lord Pent and Lady Louise.'

"Thank you. And please get Lady Alice as well. She will be needed."

At hearing this, the young attendant raised an eyebrow, but bowed respectfully all the same, then set out to complete these tasks.

- - - - - - - - - -

Somewhere in the desert wastes, stood two 20ish men, bending over to scrutinize a prone figure. The two men were large and bulky, each distinctively different from the other. The first was a tall man with a stocky build. He had a large body, but most of it went to his height. The other was quite the opposite, most of his weight contributing to his waist length.

The two men were both lightly dressed; the only substantial piece of armor on them being their shoulder plates. From either sides of the plate extended a belt that was slung diagonally across their bodies, joining together at the chest. The taller of the two had a hung an iron sword behind his back, on that belt. He wore a light greenish tunic and long brown pants. His hair was a light azure green, which he held above his forehead by means of a headband.

His partner, however, suspended his slim axe from the side of his waist belt. This obese man wore a khaki singlet, complete with matching three-quarters. His hair was orange and was similarly held up by a headband.

Our protagonist was hauled up onto the back of the camel, unconscious. With a speed almost impossible, considering all the sand, the camel sped off, towards the west, just as the sunset arrived…

- - - - - - - - - -

_Armor clashing _

_Iron against iron _

_Steel against steel_

_Fire_

_Thunder_

_Wind_

"IKE!"

With a jolt, the young man woke up, only to uninviting darkness.

"Is this... am I dead" he asked. He sat up on the bed, realizing that he must have been found and rescued. But was it friend or foe that saved him?

His heart racing, the young mage stood up and felt the cold floor beneath his legs. He was indeed clothed, but his belongings were gone. _Naglfar! _Even Naglfar was gone. Searching the room for a bit, he found nothing and decided the only way out was to find the tomes for himself.

Until then, he thought, I'll just have to do some … spy mission … heh heh. Like the wind, he swept out of the room, and then stealthily hid up a pillar, hiding atop a beam of the shack. He stayed hidden, hoping to surprise his captors. And thus he waited… and waited and waited…

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, a man came forth to the room. He seemed to be an axe fighter of sorts. As expected, the fighter rushed out of the room upon finding no one, and rushed out the corridor headed for another hall. With a giant smirk on his face, the "prisoner" followed quietly, crawling on all fours via the rooftop beams.

The plan worked and the fighter had led him to a huge living area, where another man, presumably a myrmidon or a ranger, was resting.

"ANIKI! The mage! He, he escaped!" shouted the plump axe fighter.

"What!" Shouted his companion. The swordfighter immediately took up his blade.

"You idiot! He might just be hiding somewhere, listening to us!"

"Wha…" He, too, raised his axe and readied himself in an attacking stance.

The young man, who had indeed seen all this, was not about to jump down to his death. He knew that he needed his tomes if he wanted to stand a chance against these bandits. Just then, the young mage saw it. His bag was lying across the room next to a table. He considered his situation. If he ran for the bag, he would reveal himself, but was his speed enough for him to arm himself before the bandits could attack? With a sigh, the mage decided that it would be the only way.

Bracing himself, the young man dropped to the hard floor, then ran towards his bag. The two grunts spotted him and ran after him. Sensing the two catching up to him, the young mage ran faster and faster, putting all his energies into his only hope. Miraculously, he made it, and whipped out his Elwind tome.

"Futo wdnielf!"

The massive hall suddenly seemed to shrink, as an eerie light enveloped the area. Massive winds whipped up and, as if possessed, went for the axe fighter. The wind caught him full in the face and sheared his clothes and the skin within, spilling blood forth.

"Arghh!"

"Genro!" His friend, who was left unscathed from the attack, quickly went in to attack the powerful mage. With a massive roar, he lunged forth and plunged his sword into the mage, who was not able to react, having focused his energies on the spell.

Fresh blood flowed rapidly from the wound on his right arm, but the young mage was strong enough not to flinch. Instead he moved his palm over to the ranger's face, which was pale with fright. And at point blank range, gritting his teeth to withstand the pain, the young mage shouted:

"Futo wdnielf!"

"Shilde Magi"

A pink light surrounded the Ranger just as the winds made contact. Like Genro, the ranger was injured, sliced up by the furious winds, but he was not dead, despite getting the full brunt of the attack. The mage looked to his left and saw two people. Two all too familiar people.

"So...soren?"

- - - - - - - - - - 

Yes! Haha, my first battle scene. I'm dammed proud. I put in a lot of effort to make it FE like, but realistic as well. If you wanted to know, I'll make spells by jumbling up their names. El (f) wind wdnielf. Futo comes from Futon, as some of you may already know, meaning Wind Release in Japanese. I'm a naruto fan : )

And now you know who that guy finally is. It's real hard to describe a character with just the same old word: he, he and he… In any case it's finally out, so please R&R.

Thanks for reading


	3. Crimea

Ahhh! im noting a lack of reviews here, so i dunno whether you guys like it or not. Please review to let me know, coz if no one's reading i dunno if i should continue...

Enjoy!**  
**

**Chapter 3: Crimea**

"Ow, Ow! Stop, Lady, no. Ow!" he screamed, "For the love of the Goddess, it hurts!"

Genro sat up straight on the rattan stool, staring at his groaning companion. He toyed with his axe absently, trying to maintain his silence while the important looking people discussed incessantly. His Aniki Dieck, however, was not able to attain that much of a success.

Genro couldn't blame the boy. After all, he was just a kid, and any average kid his age would most certainly have died from that blast, however strong that barrier may have been…

"Genro… Genro?"

"What? Who… oh, yes. Dart-sama, what can I do for you?"

Genro glanced up to the legendary Berserker, famed throughout the Western Isles for his exploits with the group who eventually took down _that-evil-one. _He remembered the last time he saw Dart-sama. Then, he himself had been a kid.

"Well, we were hoping that you two could make introductions."

_Two? What about that eerie mage guy, _thought Genro. Nevertheless, he stood up and introduced himself.

"The name's Genro. I'm an axe fighter, though by class rankings I'm very much more a Pirate than a Fighter. This boy here, he's a Ranger. His name is Dieck. He hails from Etruria, although I sorta picked him up in the Isles. Don't look at his face, he's real clever, a tactician of sort."

The last line gained him a snort from the mage, who stood up and walked into the circle. The young mage fixed into place a wall of arrogance around himself, demanding respect and instaneous attention.

"My name: Soren, everything else, you don't have to know. Knowing too much will harm you."

At this Dieck began to protest, but Soren held a hand to his face. Either the urgency of the motion, or the reminder of the ripping winds in his face caused Dieck to stand down and shut up, but it worked all the same.

"Seriously, Lord Pent, do we have to bring these … people along?"

"As far as I remember you let a whole lot of people into our troupe the last time around."

"… At least they were… capable."

"We can't just leave them here, can we? I gather that they probably know something about the deserts round here."

Soren nodded, easily suppressing a need to disagree. He had been through many of these 'join-or-not' situations, and as far as he could remember, the nobles had always said yes…

_Nobles…Hmph_

"Fine. I suppose we'll break camp tomorrow."

- - - - - - - - - -

Dieck twisted and tossed on the ground, unable to sleep. The beds had been given to the two lords and that mage Soren, and he had to sleep on the cold hard floor. Not that it mattered too much; even Genro was already fast asleep beside him. What bothered him was this turn of events, and that now he was subordinate to some Count of Reglay in Etruria.

He had left Etruria for about a year now. He remembered leaving because of the impending arrival of the Bern army to his village. The villagers had scattered in all directions, some to Ilia by water, some heading west, as he did, to the Isles. The strongest of them went straight to Lycia for help, though it was unknown if they… survived.

Unable to sleep, he stood up, grabbed an iron sword and made his way out of the encampment. However, as he arrived, he noticed someone sitting on the cool sands. This person was gazing up at the stars, and on his face was written an expression of desire.

A yearning.

He was dressed in strange yet familiar robes, and Dieck couldn't remember ever seeing this person. He had long hair, but his face was clean shaven, revealing a flawless face that was only about 20 years old. This person had a pair of blood red eyes, but what was most unique was the mark on his forehead. It was like the capital letter 'N', but curvier, with a single vertical line drawn down the diagonal of the letter.

_Like an axe… _

Dieck stood there for a long while, but soon grew impatient. He realized that the only way he could ever discern the identity of the person was to just to, well, ask. Warily, he made his way to the person, and then sat down beside him.

"Uh… Hi" Said Dieck. _What the hell am I saying…?_

"Um… I mean, identify yourself" Goddess_… help me with this…_

The person shrugged, but said nothing.

"My… name is Dieck… and I, err want to know what you are doing here.

"I'm looking at the stars. Look there, that's the star of the Crimea. Where I belong," He pointed to a constellation that looked, to Dieck, like a lotus.

"It's the place I come from... But I don't know how to return."

"Really? I bet there must be a star of Etruria too! Uh there it is" Dieck pointed to the largest star that he could find.

"That's the moon."

The person stood up and wiped the sand off his robes. He walked back into the encampment, mumbling something about _thanking dart for the razor._

"Eh!" Shouted Dieck, realization hitting him like a blot from the blue. "Soren?"

Dieck sat there for a while more, trying to remember and ingest all that just happened.

"Crimea…"

- - - - - - - - - - 

Right. It's rather short, and I won't call this a good piece, but this is an Idea I have for like, a support conversation. I'm sure you noticed, but im really trying to push Dieck and Soren together. Give me Ur opinions on whether I should write more of these convos or not.

Thanks for reading


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